


words don't falter

by Amymel86



Series: finding my voice [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Speech Disorders, Stuttering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 23:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20182756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: He knows the answer. Deep down, he knows the answer. It's taken him a long time to realise it, but just because he has speech difficulties, just because he's lacking in the education department, just because he wound up in prison, it doesn't mean he's dumb. Jon would even go as far to say that he's quite intelligent, actually.





	words don't falter

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii! So I've managed to shoehorn another scene from this au into a drabble event prompt. This one is for 'something new'.
> 
> As I've said before, my phone doesn't seem to like me adding tags that aren't part of the drop down options so I'll add this one here:  
Offensive Language 
> 
> Once again.... we're not looking at the word count, m'kay? K 😊

Jon is good at reading people. He can usually decipher expressions like the simple written word. He supposes it comes with a lifetime of silence. The less time you spend talking about your life and your experiences, your feelings or your thoughts, the easier it is to notice others.

This evening, however, he's having trouble. For the past three weeks, Jon has spent both Thursday and Friday evenings at The Wolf Pack Coffee Shop because that's when Sansa works.

At the end of each of her shifts, he likes that she feels comfortable enough with Jon to lock the doors and allow him to stay with her a little while after closing time.

Sometimes they talk - or Sansa talks, and Jon tries to push himself to verbally engage in the conversation. Sometimes he doodles or continues searching for employment on his laptop as Sansa reads her textbooks. Recently, in a bid to help his fluency, Sansa asked him to read passages of her favourite book aloud. Jenny of Oldstones. Sansa would read Jenny's chapters and she'd ask Jon to read Duncan's. Jon would stop and start, and stutter his way through as best he can, but he thinks its helping. He thinks he's getting better at it.

Tonight though, tonight he is beset with a new sort of nervousness.

Sansa's textbooks had caught his eye and he'd asked about them. Turns out, she's enrolling onto a course about counselling and therapy. It wasn't a terribly long course, or one that left you with some fancy degree, but an evening short course, for those who wanted a taster into the field to see if it might be a good fit for them. Jon was intrigued. Naturally, he thought Sansa would excell in counselling. She was very patient and had a good listening ear. But... could _Jon_ possibly do something like that? He's had a lifetime of observing others, of listening and learning about the way people work. And-... and if he could work through his own difficulties, his own background and past ghosts, wouldn't it be a rewarding way of giving back? Of making amends of some kind?

Of course, he'll have to overcome his speech difficulties. And he thinks he's getting there.

But there is the issue of Sansa.

For almost two months now, she's put up with him appearing at the coffee shop during her every shift. He's always eager to talk to her.. or at least _try_. And she's been fantastic. But if he enrols onto the same evening class as her is that... is that a bit stalker-y?

Jon really doesn't want Sansa to think so.

So he asked her, stuttering out the question and held his breath for the answer. Would she mind if he enrolled too?

She blinked back at him and Jon swallowed in anticipation. A wide smile bloomed on her lips making his heart thud loudly in his ears. "Of course I wouldn't mind!" She tells him and he thinks she looks genuinely excited by the idea. He can't help but duck his head to hide his answering grin. "Is counselling something you've been interested in for long?"

Jon shakes his head but is prompted to use his voice when Sansa gives him a knowing, good-natured disapproving look. "No," he says, easily as anything.

"Well, then it'll be something new for both of us!" Sansa beams, handing over one of her textbooks for his perusal.

He looks from the contents page up to her through his lashes. "Do you th-... th-... do you think I could do it?"

"What do you mean?" She scrunched her nose adorably at his question.

"Am I s-s-s-"

_Breathe_

"Am I s-s-s-smart enough?"

He knows the answer. Deep down, he _knows the answer_. It's taken him a long time to realise it, but just because he has speech difficulties, just because he's lacking in the education department, just because he wound up in prison, it doesn't mean he's dumb. Jon would even go as far to say that he's quite intelligent, actually.

Still, it's nice to get confirmation when Sansa playfully rolls her eyes and gives him an_ 'of course you're smart enough, Jon_!' through a beaming smile. In fact, Jon would say it's more than nice, actually.

And for a moment or two, he's happy - _truly_ happy. He might be able to see some sort of future for himself and he's well on his way to conquering one of his biggest demons. That just leaves the other demon lurking at the back of his head though, and it's something he owes to Sansa.

If she's to be spending more time with him - if they're going to go to classes together, maybe study together, perhaps walk home together on dark, dark nights - if they're truly going to be friends, and,_ he hopes_, possibly more, then he owes her the truth about himself. He owes her knowledge of his past.

She deserves to know.

He wants her to know...

...and he sort of doesn't want her to know at the same time.

He's written it down - his confession. The man he once was stares back at him in all that chicken-scratch writing of his on one of his notebook pages. There's too much there for him to say it all without starting and stopping and stumbling and worrying_. It's just too much_. He plans on letting her read it all. Maybe she won't want him on her course after that. But she should know.

_You're a better man now_, he tells himself, eyeing his notebook nervously. _You're trying. You're putting all that behind you_. His eyes flick up to see Sansa's nose in her book again._ And she deserves to know_.

Jon opens his notepad to the page of his confession, pulse drumming in his veins. Clearing his throat, he pushes it across the table towards her.

The bell over the coffee shop entrance tinkles merrily, announcing a customer.

"_Shit_," Sansa mutters, "must've forgotten to lock the door. I'm sorry sir," she calls out, "but we're closed for the night."

Jon turns in his booth to get a look at the man who interrupted his evening with Sansa. His blood runs cold and he's sure he must pale a shade or two.

Orell.

The man recognises him instantly. "Snow!" He says happily and Jon wants the ground to open up. "You got out too? How long's it been?"

Jon says nothing but stands. He doesn't offer a smile or his hand in greeting. Only positions himself in front of Sansa and squares his shoulders.

"Jon?" He feels her touch between his shoulder blades. "Are you two friends?" Sansa peers 'round his shoulder to look to him and then to their unwanted addition. He knows what she must be thinking. Orell is instantly identifiable as a shady sort of character, with yellowing teeth, gaunt hollowed cheeks and greasy hair. He has a silhouetted eagle tattoo under his left eye with additional feathers floating down his cheeks like tears. Jon knows that the man gets a new feather tattoo for every life he's taken. He has four.

"No."

Orell's eyes widen. "Holy shit! It speaks!" He laughs. "And all this time I thought you were just a voiceless freak!"

Jon tries hard to steady his breathing and his nerves.

"And you got yerself a pretty little thing too," he inclines his head towards Sansa. Jon balls his hands into fists at his sides. He really, really wants to show Orell what he thinks of him. But he's trying to be a better man now, and he doesn't want to act like that in from of Sansa anyway.

A soft warm hand wraps around his clenched fist, prompting him to open it. Sansa laces her fingers with his, and suddenly it's like he can breathe again. "I'd like you to leave," she tells Orell, voice as strong as she is.

"Aw, c'mon now," the man protests, "Mance will be wanting to hear from yer. He's starting operations up again from the inside. Got himself a partner on the outside, see?"

"I d-d-d-" Jon tries to take a breath but Orell is staring at him like he's some kind of oddity. "I d-don't want to c-c-come back to Mance."

_"Fuckin' hell_!" Orell grinned his rotten grin, "no wonder you kept quiet all those years! Better we all think you're a silent freak than the fucking stutterin' retard you really are, ay?"

"Excuse me?!" Sansa gasps, obviously outraged on his behalf. He thinks he might love her a little bit for that.

"Don't mind me, darlin'" Orell smiles, "I'm just havin' a nice man to m-m-m-man chat. Ain't that right, J-J-Jon?" He mocks, standing there, extremely pleased with himself.

Beside him, Jon feels Sansa inhale, ready to give the man a piece of her mind, her hand gripping him tightly. That won't do. Jon's not letting anyone speak for him anymore. He takes a step forward and Orell's grin falters a fraction. He knows what Jon is capable of. He's seen it. He knows if Jon wanted to snap his arm like an autumn twig, he could do so without breaking a sweat.

"Leave... _Now," _he growlsand Jon thanks all the Gods that his words hadn't let him down.

Orell eyes him with a smirk but ducks his head and leaves, the bell above the door tinkling away again. Jon releases a breath of tension and turns to Sansa. "Are you alright?" He asks, clearly, fluently. He needs to know.

She looks a little shaken. "Yeah," Sansa nods before asking him, "what was all that about?"


End file.
